


Brian and Gerald

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-19
Updated: 2006-10-19
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Gerald meet. Sequel toMary and Gerald.





	Brian and Gerald

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: It's crackfic.  


* * *

It was with some trepidation one night that Brian found himself standing in front of a little pub, the tables out front crowded with men who were, judging from their dirt-covered clothing and the lighted helmets on their heads, coal miners.

“Hello there. I see you made it here all right.”

Brian turned, only just managing to hide his surprise that a very large, very blue dragon was speaking to him in an extremely proper English accent.

“I think I need a drink.”

“I dare say, we’re in the right place for it! Let’s go inside, I could use a bit of a nip myself. I’m Gerald, by the way.” The dragon stepped forward and entered the pub as if it was perfectly normal for him to be there.

So Brian resigned himself to the fact that he had no place else to go, and no idea why he was where he was. He came to the conclusion that the only thing he could do was ride out whatever was happening to him.

“It’s ever so hard to meet men, Myfanwy!” a rather robust young man in a bright red spandex shirt and little leather shorts lamented loudly. He reached up and gingerly poked at his spiky blond hair. “I mean, obviously it would be, since I am the only gay in the village!”

“Dayffyd Thomas, if you’d get your head out of your bum you might realize that there are other gays,” the female bartender replied.

“Such as? I’ve not yet met another gay! Llandewi Breffi is bereft of them! I suppose I shall have to resign myself to loneliness and future heartache,” he replied, as Brian stepped up to the bar and ordered a Scotch. “I just wish I could meet another gay . . .”

Brian narrowed his eyes as he regarded the other man. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish to be with my own kind! To meet other gays and have parties!”

“And you’re telling me _he_ isn’t gay?” Brian asked as Myfanwy set his drink in front of him. He gestured toward the far corner by the door.

“Who?”

“The guy in the assless chaps.”

“Obviously he is not a gay! He has a mustache! Everyone knows gays detest facial hair in any form.”

“Right . . .”

“This really _is_ a delightful place, isn’t it?” Gerald asked, drawing Brian’s attention away from Daffyd. “It’s so . . . Welsh.”

“So that’s where we are? Wales?”

“For the time being.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Come on, we should be going. Places to go, people to see!”

***

“Now where are we?” Brian asked as he gazed across the boardwalk toward the beach.

“Old Haven. I need to make a stop to visit my dear friend Emily. My wife, Mary, is in need of a new parasol and Emily sells them in the gift shop at her guest house. It’ll just be a quick visit.”

“You’re married?”

“Oh yes, for quite some time, I must say. It’ll be ten years in August. My dear Mary, bless her little heart, puts up with my eccentricities. Most women wouldn’t.”

“Well, yeah . . . because you’re a giant blue dragon. Most people want to marry members of their own species.”

“Yes, she really is quite open-minded. Come along, I don’t want to keep Emily waiting!”

Brian followed along behind Gerald. After about ten minutes of walking they approached a large white home, the sign out front proclaiming that it was, indeed a guest house. They climbed the steps and entered the building, immediately bearing right and stepping into the gift shop. At a table arranging a pile of lace scarves stood a tall woman with long, curly brown hair.

“Emily!”

“Gerald!”

“And who is this fetching young man?” Emily batted her eyelashes and stepped closer to Brian.

“I met him outside The Scarecrow and Mrs. King earlier today. Though I never did get his name. How thoughtless of me. Now, then . . . what _is_ your name?”

“Brian.” He studied Emily for a moment, taking in her bright red lipstick, blue eye shadow, and Adam’s apple. “Why are you wearing a dress?”

“I am a lady! I wear ladies’ things! I like lacey shawls and parasols!”

“Um . . . you need a slip or something . . . I can see your balls through that dress. Just thought you’d want to know,” Brian remarked.

"But I am a lady! I do not have les testiclé!” Emily exclaimed.

“Then I must also be imagining that boner you’ve got right now.”

***

“You had to make a scene, didn’t you?” Gerald asked, hands on his fat blue dragon hips. “You were exceedingly rude to Emily. Beyond rude, in fact. I didn’t want to stereotype Americans, but you’re leaving me hard-pressed to think otherwise.” He sighed heavily and began walking again. “Come on, we still have a few more stops to make.” He sighed again. “Mary will be so disappointed. She really does love getting a new parasol every now and again.”

***

“Why are we waiting outside a school?”

“I promised Mary I’d stop by and make sure her best friend’s niece actually went to school today. The girl really is a handful. Whenever I wish I’d had children, I just think of her and realize maybe it was all for the best.” Gerald gazed into the distance for a moment, then turned his attention back to the school. “Ah, there she is.” He gestured to a large girl wearing a bright pink track jacket, her long red hair pulled back, half of it in a ponytail atop her head. Walking next to her was a smaller girl with long, dark hair.

“What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” she asked, glaring at Gerald.

“Mary asked me to check up on you.”

“Sure you’re not bein’ all pervy, checkin’ out the girls and whatever?”

“Vicky, I can assure you that I have no interest in teenage girls.”

“That’s not what Suzie said.”

“What _did_ she say?” Brian asked, not really caring, but preferring talking to a human over talking to a blue dragon.

“No but yeah but no but yeah but everyone knows blue dragons are impotent cuz Suzie, _you_ know Suzie, she’s the one what had that lazy eye cuz this bloke she wuz seein’ was addicted to grapefruit and that’s all ‘e ever ate, and they were havin’ at it in the back of the school bus and the bus hit a bump and she got jizz in her eye, and the jizz had a high concentration of acid in it from all the grapefruit, and anyway, when she told me I was like, ‘SHUT UP!’ but she swore on her Orlando Bloom poster it was true, and I don’t care what no one or nuffin’ say, Suzie’s not a liar, so if she says Gerald wouldn’t do her on the swing set after school last Wednesday, then ‘e must not’ve been able to get it up.”

“I am not impotent!”

“Gerald? You have no discernable genitalia,” Brian pointed out. “Blue dragon dick would be hard to miss.”

***

“You Americans really are foul-mouthed. Can’t take you anywhere,” Gerald pouted as they walked away from the school, leaving Vicky to go pick up seven of her children from the babysitter.

“Then why are you leading me all around?”

“I honestly don’t know. It’s as if it was predestined. I don’t think I have any choice in the matter. Besides, Mary would never let me hear the end of it if I told her I left you to fend for yourself in a strange country – she has a soft spot for foreigners. Anyway, we’re making just one more stop.”

“Where to?”

“10 Downing Street.”

“Isn’t that . . .”

“It is indeed.”

***

“So they just let you right into the Prime Minister’s office? They don’t think a giant blue dragon poses any sort of threat to national security?” Brian asked, gazing around the surprisingly small room.

“Oh, dear, no! The prime minister and I go way back – we were at Oxford together.”

“Did he not notice you were a dragon?”

“He was fond of acid back then, so I don’t think he really thought it was all that unusual to be sitting in a room talking to a dragon.”

“And now?”

“What does it matter? We’re friends. You can have friends among various species,” Gerald remarked as the door opened and the Prime Minister stepped inside, his aide Sebastian following closely behind him. As the Prime Minister came to an abrupt stop, Sebastian bumped into him.

“Ooh, Prime Minister, was that my penis in the vicinity of your bum?”

“Yes, Sebastian.”

“And a nice bum it is.” Suddenly his eyes drifted over to Brian. “Who’re you?”

“Sebastian, this is Brian. He’s traveling with me today,” Gerald remarked. “Prime Minister, nice to see you again.”

“You, too, Gerald. How’s Mary?”

“Good, good, curing the ailments of children far and wide. It keeps her busy.”

“Prime Minister, I need to talk to you about something,” Sebastian remarked, gesturing toward the leather sofa. The Prime Minister smiled apologetically at Brian and Gerald, then moved to join Sebastian.

“So, Gerald . . . why is Giles your Prime Minister?”

“Whatever are you speaking of, my boy?”

“I’ve been forced to watch enough episodes of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ that I can now spot Giles in a heartbeat.”

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that. I don’t watch television. It’s utter rubbish, if you ask me!”

“Okay.” Brian tilted his head to the side as he peered around Gerald. On the sofa he spotted Sebastian lying there naked, legs in the air. “Hm . . . so maybe it was worth coming here . . .” he remarked, as Gerald’s head whipped around and he took in the scene before him.

“Oh, I _do_ love a little anal sex! I _do,_ I _do,_ I _do_!" Gerald exclaimed, rushing over to the sofa where the Prime Minister was fucking Sebastian Love. “Do me next, do me next!”

“I . . . am . . . a man . . . of . . . the . . . people!” the Prime Minister grunted.

“Oh yes you are!” Sebastian exclaimed, though his voice was muffled, as his face was wedged against the arm of the sofa.

“Get me the fuck out of here!” Brian whispered, cringing as Gerald waved his big blue ass in the air.

***

“Brian? Brian, wake up!”

“Huh?” He opened his eyes and found Justin standing over him. “Fuck. How long was I asleep?”

“Half an hour, tops.”

“Gus?” He shifted around until he was once again sitting, then grabbed the remote and muted the music at the end credits of _Little Britain._

“I had to read it to him twice. He’s totally addicted to Curious George.” Justin smiled and dropped onto the sofa beside him. “You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

“Something like that.” His eyes drifted around the living room, finally settling on the stuffed blue dragon that was perched on the arm of Gus’s favorite chair. “Remind me to take that fucking thing to work tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Justin stood once again, faced Brian, and began unbuttoning his jeans, a mischievous smile forming on his lips.

***

Brian gazed at the clock on his computer screen. It was just after 12:00. When he’d come in in the morning, he’d gathered up his notes and had Cynthia run them, and the blue stuffed dragon, down to the art department. Four hours was certainly, in Brian’s estimation, enough time to flesh out his ideas a little and have some boards planned out.

He yawned as he stood (Justin had kept him up until almost 2 a.m.) and made his way toward the art department. He’d always had a tendency to get his first look at the boards while everyone in the department was at lunch, since it was easier to absorb what he was seeing when people weren’t trying to get his attention or remain in his good graces.

He carefully slid open the door that led to the department, only to be confronted by one of his employees, pants down, lying on one of the drafting tables. Beneath him there peeked a little bit of blue fuzz.

“Jesus Christ, Murph! What have I told you? No fucking the product!”


End file.
